


Broken Replicas

by LadyBrooke



Category: The Silmarillion and other histories of Middle-Earth - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Angst, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-05-06
Updated: 2013-05-06
Packaged: 2017-12-10 14:30:13
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 944
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/787097
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LadyBrooke/pseuds/LadyBrooke
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>They are supposedly the pampered sons of the High-King of the Noldor in Valinor. Orodreth feels it is more Finrod the golden favorite, and the rest of them can never live up to their parents' wishes.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Broken Replicas

“I am tired,” Orodreth said, turning from his brothers to look out the window.

Finrod looked up from the chess board that he was currently staring at (and that Angrod was glaring at, angry to be losing once again) to smile at his brother. “You should go to sleep, if you are that tired. It has been a long day, and we have another long day ahead of us.”

Orodreth paused, before turning around to stare at Finrod. “Not like that. I am tired of all the expectations, Finrod. Not that you would know what that was like, being Amil’s darling little perfect boy, the one who took after his father and acts nothing like the rest of his family.”

Angrod and Aegnor exchanged worried glances, as Finrod’s smile momentarily slipped off his face, before he managed to plaster it back on. “Come now, that is merely the lack of sleep and the wine talking. You will feel better in the morning.”

“It’s not the wine talking, brother!” Orodreth slammed his fist down on the table, causing Angrod to jump as the chess pieces fell off into his lap. Finrod started to speak, but was cut off when Orodreth resumed speaking. “The wine merely gives me the courage to speak the thoughts that have haunted me for so long. You are the perfect son to them, don’t you see? The rest of us...the rest of us, save Artanis, are mere broken replicas of you! And we're never allowed to forget it."

Finrod’s smile had long slipped off his face, as he stared at his brother as he continued to speak. “And Artanis is the lost daughter, the one that they weep over at night. But the rest of us are only here so that they can lecture us on the importance of not doing this or not doing that, because they’ve turned this whole damn place into some kind of twisted show of how different they are from the rest of the family.”

Orodreth’s face had twisted into a grimace as he spoke. Aegnor tried to reach out and grasp his arms, but Orodreth shook him off.

“Don’t – just please, don’t,” Orodreth pleaded, causing Aegnor to back away. Angrod stood up, and moved to stand with Aegnor near the bookshelves. Neither Orodreth nor Finrod looked at their brothers again. Orodreth seemed desperate, as though begging Finrod to understand. “Can you really say that any of this is how you remember it being when Grandfather was King? Why do we now give the Teleri whatever they want? Because of the Kinslayings? Let the Teleri rot! We don’t do the same for the Sindar, who suffered far worse. The fact that Olwë is related to us should mean nothing. Atar is the King of the Noldor, not a vassal bound to Olwë.”

Orodreth turned suddenly, seeming to almost fall forwards, before straightening and moving towards the window, where he stared out, towards the house where Anairë still lived, and Turgon stayed to keep his mother happy, and farther still, towards Formenos. Blinking away the memories of the past, he continued to speak. "We can't even talk of our cousins anymore without getting in trouble. Because they're evil and bad and helped kill the Teleri...but they weren't that, but Olwë will get angry if you speak of them, so a Noldo, in a Noldorin city, is forbidden to speak of his own relatives. And do you not see Auntie Anairë getting paler each year that passes, as she hears Fingon spoken of worse and worse, for how he followed our cousins, and loved them? Or even Aredhel, and how can you stand to not speak of them, Finrod? I thought they were your friends, but instead you will let them rot, cast as the villains by the Teleri. But things aren’t black and white like that. Did not Olwë leave Elmo and his kin on the shores of Middle-earth, in order to bring his own followers to Aman? Is someone who abandoned his brothers to be considered a saint, and the elf that loved his father so deeply as to kill – and don’t bring up the jewels, Finrod! Those damned jewels, but they were what Uncle had left, don’t you see? Grandfather died for them. And Grandfather was dead, and Uncle had lost both parents, and he wanted revenge and his jewels back. And that’s very understandable, to me at least.”

Orodreth was swaying as he spoke, the wine and exhaustion finally catching up with him. He turned to move towards Finrod once again, but stumbled and fell towards the floor. Aegnor and Angrod managed to catch him and pull him to rest on his knees, where he finished, “How much longer do you think Auntie is going to live, with her husband and most of her children treated like trash? And when she dies, how do you think Turgon is going to take it? Please, brother, if not for them, for me, try to stop this…” He trailed off, closing his eyes.

“Let us take you to your rooms,” Aegnor mumbled, looking lost and on the verge on crying. “You need rest, and everything will seem better when you wake up. Things can’t stay the way they are, I agree. We’ll change things, Angrod and I will, and you too of course.”

“Will we?” Orodreth mumbled, as Angrod nodded. “Yes…I suppose I should rest.” Orodreth tried to stand, only to collapse sideways, leaning on Angrod.

“Come, we’ll carry you, ”Angrod said, causing Aegnor to shift to carry more of Orodreth’s weight. As they walked out of the room, Finrod sat, staring in shock.


End file.
